


Scattered Holorecordings

by luxtenebras



Series: Codex - The Casia Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: A collection of one-shots because I am incapable of writing things that are longer, Also some non-romantic parts bc all of these badass space ladies are also friends, And Grumpy Space Cats, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I love all these nerds so much help, Now new and improved with Umbara Spoilers, Oh yeah and spoilers. Lots of them. For all the content, Sith Sass, Skeptical Jedi, Slight Canon Divergence, but nothing crazy, please tread carefully, tolerant of each other at the very least, well sort of friends anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9029222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxtenebras/pseuds/luxtenebras
Summary: A collection of ficlets, dribbles, and drabs collected from either prompts or random one-shot ideas that won't go away no matter what I try. Lots of characters because I really love all the classes and all the companions and someone help me please. There will be no particular order or organization because that's how it goes. 
More tags will be added as something with the relevant character / pairing is added on.





	1. "Do you love me?" - Malavai Quinn / Female Sith Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt response on Tumblr for "Do you love me?" that got horribly, horribly out of hand. 
> 
> Takes place after Corellia but before the finale on Korriban. 
> 
> Minor mention of wounds, nothing out of shade for Star Wars sorts of things.

Making foolish choices was never something Quinn tried to excel at, but he’d been doing a damn good job of it lately anyway. Failing to admit the extent of his wounds sustained on the Transponder Station, even to himself, was stupid - and not only was it stupid, it kept him from operating at peak efficiency. Even now, the wounds on his back nearly screamed with each movement of his arms. They’d have to stay, however - there wasn’t enough time before they reached Korriban for him to crawl into a tank, and it wasn’t  _ that _ serious. 

Or so he would continue to tell himself, anyway. 

He was seated on the bottom corner of one of the cots, uniform shirt folded neatly next to him and leaving on display a rather impressive array of burns and blaster wounds. Some were fresh, the pale flesh around them still inflamed by the insult, but there were some that were older and still painful, on more than one level. 

When the door of the medbay opened he didn’t bother looking up, focused on carefully applying the kolto to a blaster wound on his arm that if, left untreated, would affect his combat abilities in the future. Such a thing was unacceptable. It was more than likely Jaesa, as there was no chatter accompanying the door opening and the footfalls were too soft to be Pierce or Broonmark. 

“Quinn.” His head jerked up when he heard his name in his lord’s voice. She stood in the doorway, almost as if hesitating, head tilted as she regarded him. Apparently deciding something, she stepped into the room far enough for the door to close behind her. Her head remained tilted, her expression calm, but she didn’t say anything else yet. 

“My lord, I apologize, if you require use of the medbay I will move to my quarters and --” Quinn was already starting to stand, but he stopped when she shook her head. 

“I am not injured. You are.” Her lips quirked in a momentary frown. “Turn around.” 

“My lord, my injuries are nothing you need concern yourself with.” 

“I can decide that for myself, Quinn. Turn around.” Danaiya’s words had an edge to them now, something that was definitely more an order than a request.  Reluctantly, he slid off the edge of the cot and turned his back to her, glancing over his shoulder after allowing her to assess his wounds in silence. 

She did not say anything to him, but she didn’t need to - the disapproval in her expression was words enough. Stepping around him, she grabbed the medical supplies off the bed. “Don’t.” He let out a quiet sigh but bit back his protest before it could even fully form. 

In truth, Quinn had not anticipated her ever touching him again - at least not in a way that wasn’t strictly related to performing her duty - and perhaps this was that. He did not know who she planned on bringing along with her to face Baras in the Council chambers - he had assumed, as on Corellia, it would be either Jaesa or Vette. In light of that, there had to be more important matters for her to attend to, matters that didn’t confuse personal feelings quite so much. “I appreciate your concern, my lord, but don’t you need to prepare for when we arrive? Surely Jaesa could see to me.” 

“Is that what you’d prefer?” It sounded like a  casual question, but after traveling with his lord for this long, he knew that in this particular tone it was about as casual as a sarlacc pit. 

“N-no, my lord, I merely thought --” His words were cut off when her left hand moved over his shoulder and she pressed a finger to his lips. Quinn would not have predicted such an intimate gesture and for a single. irrational moment hope flared to life in his mind, hope that things were not as broken between them as he’d thought. As he’d _feared_. There was also no preventing the blush that bloomed across his face, even if he’d wanted to, and her expression shifted to the smallest hint of a smile. 

Danaiya’s hand moved back to where it could focus on more productive things, and Quinn was surprised to see - or more correctly, surprised to _feel_ \- that she actually knew how to properly treat the wounds. She’d expressed interest in learning a while back and he’d shown her some basics, but with everything else that had gone on he would have expected she’d forgotten. 

It occurred to Quinn that he was also starting to make a habit of being wrong, especially where his lord was concerned, and that was a little distressing in and of itself. He could feel the haze from the kolto starting to nip at the edges of his mental acuity and fighting against his lord’s apparent desire to help him soon became a more distant thought. She worked in silence, the only sounds coming from the distant roar of the ship’s engine as they tore through hyperspace and their breathing. 

“Do you love me?” It was asked so quietly he almost missed it. Her hands did not stop working, applying the kolto with a delicate touch that most would not think she possessed - though Quinn himself knew better. 

The question cut through the soft haze of healing and with no small amount of confusion he turned, facing his lord with a furrowed brow, regret poking at him when she withdrew her hands. “My lord, I --” He fell silent when she lifted a hand, bandage still trapped between her fingers. 

“It is a simple question, Captain.” There was very little emotion in her tone, giving Quinn very little to read. “Don’t overthink. Just answer. Yes or no.” 

“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation, but when he started to continue, she held up her hand again. He frowned, just a little, but since the Transponder Station he was very wary around her - afraid that he might say or do the wrong thing and cause her to reconsider her easy exoneration of his betrayal. Her hand then turned, making a spinning motion, and he turned back around, giving her the proper angle to resume dressing the wounds on his back. 

Danaiya said nothing else, gave no explanation for why she would ask him such a thing, and he might have been imagining it or maybe it was the kolto wanting him to make a fool of himself but her touch became more like it had been before he threw everything away. 

The silence between them stretched on and he closed his eyes. What was he expecting? That she would tell him how she felt? Something,  _ anything  _ other than the silence - he felt like it was smothering him. 

Her hands moved to rest on his shoulders and pushed gently, a silent order for him to turn and face her. His lord’s expression was still calm and she was giving none of the normal cues that this was simply a façade. She leaned up on her tip-toes and when that wasn’t quite enough height, she levitated and, as he stood there stunned like some sort of fool, Danaiya’s lips pressed against his forehead.

When she returned to solid ground he could do nothing more than stare. And blush, that damned blushing again, and when she smiled it was a little brighter this time. Even still, she turned and headed for the door, pausing for a moment before pressing the panel to open it. “You will need to rest as much as possible before we reach Korriban, Captain.” 

“You intend for me to accompany you to confront Darth Baras, my lord?” 

“You need this as much as I do.” Danaiya looked over her shoulder at him. “Our passion makes us stronger, Quinn, I told you this.”  She opened the door and turned to leave, pausing for one more moment. “When he lies as a smoking corpse at our feet, we will be free. Both of us.” 


	2. "Here, you can have half." Aric Jorgan / Female Republic Trooper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited Space Cats are still grumpy, more at 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place not too long after KotFE chapter 11, so spoilers for that.

Aric was staring again.

In truth, he’d been doing that more often than he’d care to admit, ever since he’d found her again but it was hard to even let her out of arm’s reach - much less out of his line of sight - for fear that if he couldn’t see her, she’d vanish again.

He didn’t think he’d survive losing his mate a second time.

So he hovered and kept reaching out, casual touches that he would have never done before he’d spent years worth of nights lying awake and wondering if she was alive or dead, wondering why he hadn’t followed her like he knew he should have, wondering if the brass were right and he just couldn’t let go of his dead wife. She did not protest the hovering nor the touching and perhaps she carried the same fears he did. Not that either of them would ever admit to it.

Aric watched as she approached, weaving through the crowd of exile-turned-militia to join him at the edge of the camp. “I come bearing gifts.” With an overdramatic flourish, she handed him the field rations.

He gave a quiet snort but took them from her. “Awfully generous of you.” Her only response was a chuckle as she sat down next to him - closer than she would have, had this been five years ago - and stared out at the camp, watching the exiles with the smallest of smiles on her face. 

“We’re doing the right thing here.” It was a murmur, but with her being so close he had no trouble hearing it.

“Yeah. We are.” Jorgan paused before digging into the rations. “Did you eat already?” Xavira hesitated, then shook her head. “And you’re not going to.” That wasn’t a question and he was unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into his tone.

“They need it more than I do.” She gestured to the exiles. “Word is we’ll be getting more supplies from Odessen tomorrow. I can wait.” When he narrowed his eyes at her, she sighed. “There’s no point in arguing, Aric. The food’s been handed out. I’m not going to go take any from them.”

He heaved a sigh. “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” He shook his head. “Damned woman.”

“I love you too, Aric.” Though her tone feigned annoyance, he didn’t have to turn his head to know that she was grinning - that same grin that had lead him into the craziest situations, but had also lead him out safe. The same grin that helped him fall in love with her before he realized what was happening. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, taking some of the rations and handing her the remaining portion. “Here. You can have half.”

“Awfully generous of you.” She returned in the same tone he’d used on her before, and when he elbowed her gently with a scowl, she laughed.


	3. "Getting caught making out despite 'not being together'" Theron Shan/Female Sith Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Darth Imperius need to find more discreet places to make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Shadow of Revan, after bringing back the guy for interrogation by either Marr or Satele.

“Try not to die, okay? It’d be nice to see you again.” Imperius’ eyebrow arched as she regarded Theron with a bemused expression. “What?” Theron asked, his tone just a bit defensive. “It…you know. It would be.”

“Oh, it’s not _that_.” The Dark Councilor waved off his concerns, her lips curling into a smile. “I’m still trying to picture you as an acolyte on Korriban and, were our present situation not so dire, I would be laughing.” The expression on his face earned by that remark actually did make her chuckle, leaving her unable to suppress a swell of affection for a man that she should, at best, keep at a distance. Definitely not sharing stolen glances with, or any of that other romantic nonsense that someone was going to notice sooner or later.

“Well, I’m glad I could lighten the mood, at least.” The half-smile that quirked on his lips made Imperius’ heart ache just a little. “You should get going, though.”

“Sending me off to my probable death without so much as a goodbye kiss? I’m hurt, Theron.” She sighed, overdramatically wistful. “I suppose I will have to find some way to -” The word ‘manage’ never passed her lips, quite effectively stopped by the warmth of his lips on hers.

This was not the tentative, shy kiss that they’d shared before leaving Rishi, where the idea was new and his injuries were fresher and still painful…no this was something else entirely. Warm and bittersweet and neither of them made any move to pull away.

At least, not until the sound of a clearing throat sent them apart almost violently. Theron, having the slight advantage of height and the even more relevant advantage of facing the appropriate direction turned a shade of red that almost matched his jacket. It was another thing that would have made Darth Imperius laugh if the situation wasn’t so dire.

Something in his expression, though, had her turning around. When she saw who ‘caught’ them, it took all of her self control to not turn red herself. Or scream. Or something else equally embarrassing.  “Well.” Effectively breaking the silence that was definitely beginning to grow awkward, Imperius managed something that was more grimace than smile. “Grand Master Shan.”

“Darth Imperius.” Satele Shan spoke in a tone that was polite, but clipped. “I would have thought you would be on your way to the Temple by now.”

It was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened in her life, but under the Grand Master’s disappointed glare she actually felt something akin to shame. It wasn’t only that it was the disappointment of a leader, or even a Jedi. It was a mother’s disappointment and that made it all the worse. It was a ridiculous thing to feel, considering the Grand Master was _his_ mother, not hers. Stars help her. “Right. I…”

“She’s…uh, heading there now.” Theron cut in, his arm brushing against hers as he moved to stand between the two women. Was he… _protecting_ her? From the Grand Master? How utterly irrational. And adorable. “Aren’t you, Imperius?”

There was something in the way he said her Sith name, something the gave her the irrational desire to tell him her given name. She quashed said desire before something stupid came out of her mouth in front of the Grand Master. “Yes. Yes I was…just…going…” She cleared her throat, unable to make eye contact with either of them. “Temple. Right. Have to…save everyone…again.” She stepped around Theron, gave the Jedi a respectful nod, and walked as fast as she could without looking like she was running away.

She was, however, still in earshot when Satele commented, “Odd or not, Imperius is still a Sith Lord and –”

“We are not.” Theron’s voice held a tone of exasperation. “Getting into this right now.”


	4. "I missed you." Theron Shan/Female Sith Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by all the things that happen in this setting where in Sith hide in plain sight - I'm looking at you, especially, Jedi Knight Coruscant story - and since Rixara is a sentimental doof, this is the Thing That Happens. Hiding under the Jedi's notice doesn't always have to be for Super Secret Evil things. Maybe someone just wants to see the person they got real fond of smooching. We all have our vices. 
> 
> Set really, right directly before KotFE Chapter 1.

****

This was stupid. **  
**

She knew it was, she had known before she’d even approached the Twi’lek smuggler, and Nazeeri had almost laughed herself into a coma telling her how completely unnecessary and idiotic the whole idea was. 

Yet here she was, sitting in an unfamiliar place in clothing that didn’t fit quite right - Nazeeri’s clothing would have never fit, as the Twi’lek was taller and much more curvy than she, but the human female on the smuggler’s crew was closer to her size. Still a little tall, but usable.

There was a positive to this entire situation, however. Rixara could not afford to use a lot of thought to focus on how nervous she actually was, so focused was she on masking her own considerable presence in the Force. Along with berating herself. She should be somewhere, _anywhere_ but here. Except maybe Corsucant. Or Tython. Tython might have been a worse option. Regardless.

Thankfully for her, Jedi didn’t frequent the cantina that she could tell. She saw a large number of spacers and even some soldiers - some possessing familiar voices, or so she thought - but as she was dressed the part of a spacer, they didn’t look any further past it. A few Jedi passed, some giving her lingering glances…but she was left alone. Which was good. 

A Dark Lord of the Sith, _a member of the Dark Council,_ sitting in a cantina in the very heart of the Republic Fleet. In spacer’s clothes that didn’t fit her quite right. 

All because she couldn’t let it go.

“– loosen up.” Nazeeri’s voice, loud and unmistakable, cut through the din of other voices around. Rixara jerked her head up, looking around for the source and catching sight of the smuggler as she towed someone along. “Especially after things go badly with your boss. And your boss’s boss. And your _mother._ But not too loose. Don’t get crazy.”

“Coming from you, the very model of restraint?” Theron Shan chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll take it to heart.”

“Good. I’m always right.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” Clearing his throat, Theron looked around. “Weren’t you supposed to be taking me to meet someone?”

“Right here.” Nazeeri smacked the table as she reached it. Rixara jerked but tried to play it off, unsuccessfully, as a cough. “Biggest idiot in the known galaxy, but I owed her a favor. And I’m a sucker for this sort of thing.”

Green eyes met amber, and Theron sucked in a breath. Whoever he’d been expecting the captain to bring him to, this wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. A long silence stretched between the two, then he turned to the Captain. “Do…you do know bringing her here is treason, right?”

“What was that you told me? _Complete immunity_ from Republic prosecution of _any_ kind?” Nazeeri patted him on the shoulder. “Besides, maybe she wants to switch sides. Who knows. You two hash it out. I think I saw one of my favorites wandering around lost. Call me when you’re done, Darth Sunshine, and I’ll come get you. Eventually.” Winking at Rixara, she turned and walked away, leaving an increasingly awkward silence in her wake.

There was a long pause where they both watched the Twi'lek walk away, then Theron sat down and drummed his fingers on the table. Even with keeping her power masked, she could feel the conflicting emotions radiating off from him. “So.” He finally broke the silence. “Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or…something?”

“You might be surprised, but the archaeology nerd isn’t the first one they go to for advice on this sort of thing.” Rixara’s words sounded strange even to her own ears, without the Imperial accent. “Most of what I could offer has already been put to use.” 

“Why are you here?” The question was asked so bluntly she almost flinched. It was concern that weighed down his words, though, not anger. Concern for himself as much as her. Despite the emotional conflict she could still feel, his face was set in a stern frown.

“I missed you.” Rixara’s response was as blunt as his question, too blunt to be dishonest, but he didn’t back down. She cleared her throat and started again. “I didn’t know…after Ziost if you’d…”

She saw Theron’s stern expression crack just a little. “Right. Ziost.”

“There wasn’t really anyone I could ask, not directly, and I don’t think I would have been satisfied with the information second hand. I had to see you, I had to know you made it out of there.” The hand that was resting on the table clenched into a fist, her gaze falling. “Feeling millions upon millions die all at once…and I was afraid I wouldn’t have felt you if you’d been among them.”

“Imperius,” Theron started, though he stopped when she held up her hand.

“Don’t call me that. Not here, especially.” Her eyes lifted again, meeting his with the unflinching confidence that he’d remembered. “Rixara.”

“What?”

“Rixara. That’s my name. My real name,” She managed a smile. “You don’t think my mother named me Imperius, do you?”

“Well…no. Probably not.” Theron admitted, returning her smile with the tiniest quirk of his lips. “So, Rixara,” her smile widened at his use of her name. “I thought people in, ah, your position tended to keep their past hidden.”

“I’m pretty atypical of people in my position.”

“Obviously.” Another silence stretched between them, then with no small amount of trepidation in his voice, Theron asked, “How long are you planning to…you know…”

“My absence will be noticed if I am gone for too much longer. I only came here for this. There’s something I needed to tell you.” All at once she became very serious.  “The pieces of the puzzle are starting to move, and the picture they’re creating makes me uneasy. It’s another reason why I wanted to see you.” She didn’t say _one last time_ , but it hung in the air regardless. “Knowing that you’re alive will save me wondering about you when the picture fully forms. And it will. Soon, I think.”

“The Emperor?” Theron’s throat must have become dry, because the word came out almost choked. He cleared his throat while Rixara nodded. He reached out then, placing a hand on top of hers.

The gesture caught her off-guard and she stumbled for a moment. “I don’t…have any concrete evidence. It’s just a feeling. Things will come to a head, and soon.” She glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at him. “Be careful.”

“Hey, considering where we are, I should be telling _you_ to be careful.”

Turning her hand over, she squeezed his, then pulled away. “Considering where we are, you should be arresting me. I’m glad you’re not.”

“I still could.” 

“I think if you were going to, you would have already.” Despite the topic, she actually managed an honest smile. “Stupid or not, I’m glad I did this.”

“It really was stupid. You could have called, you know. I might even have answered.” His frown wasn’t nearly as stern as before. 

Rixara rose to her feet with a chuckle. “I could have. But I like taking risks. And seeing you in person was worth it.” Her eyes became somewhat sad, even though her smile persisted. “Take care, Theron.”

“Yeah, you too.” Theron watched her walk away and disappear into the crowd near the bar. He should have stopped her - he had more to say, didn’t he? Hell, he really _should_ arrest her.

But he let her go.

Two weeks later, SIS reports named Darths Marr and Imperius, along with the Sith known as the Emperor’s Wrath, either dead or missing.


	5. "Hesitant Kiss" - Malavai Quinn / Sith Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the half-confession on Taris, things get...
> 
> ...well, not heated. 
> 
> Stuff happens!

The whole thing had started simply enough. An effort to work off some of the boredom that was starting to seep in as they took the long journey from Taris to Hoth - Hoth, of all the kriffing places in the galaxy, why did it have to be that particular _frozen shithole_ \- saw her inviting Jaesa to practice her lightsaber technique. Nothing out of the ordinary for a master and an apprentice traveling literally across the galaxy together.

_Don’t hold back_ , she’d told her apprentice. _Act as though I am a real opponent out for your life._

At the start Jaesa was still holding back, but as Danaiya pressed her own attack, her apprentice began to respond in kind until the cargo area was practically roaring with the sounds of swinging and impacting lightsabers. This was good, Danaiya thought. Jaesa had shown incredible growth in skill - she’d been invaluable on Taris and…

From some dark, treacherous corner of her mind, the memory of the only time she’d ever truly, even momentarily, feared for her life bubbled up. She’d told Quinn she was certain it would work, but she wasn’t certain - she wondered if he knew that - and then he’d…

_I believe you know how I feel about you, my lord._

She was a millisecond too slow in blocking Jaesa’s incoming strike and the green blade bit into her upper left arm, causing her to cry out in more surprise than actual pain. Which isn’t to say it didn’t hurt - it was agonizing - but she was too busy berating herself from getting distracted by errant thoughts that it didn’t hurt as much as it would when she wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Jaesa immediately deactivated her lightsaber, nervous energy and frantic apologies coming from the brunette in equal measure. Danaiya held up her right hand, the flow of apologies stopping abruptly but the nervous energy building at twice the speed in it’s place.

“Just…” Danni sucked in a breath, then pressed the hand that was held up to the wound on her arm.  “ Promise me if you’re fighting a real opponent you won’t immediately back off and start apologizing if you scratch them.”

* * *

She didn’t really need medical attention so much, but Jaesa had insisted - and she’d already made Quinn aware of the injury, so it was too late to dodge this particular blaster bolt - so there Danaiya sat, Jaesa still fidgeting next to her, when Quinn entered the medbay.

“My lord. Jaesa.” Quinn gave both of them a respectful bow. “Apologies for the delay.”

“No, no, Captain.” Jaesa was doing a wonderful job at failing to be the dark apprentice. Danni did her best to not roll her eyes. “I’m sorry from pulling you away from your duties –”

“The next person who apologizes is getting choked. With my _hands_.” How serious a threat that was remained to be seen, but it was enough to cause Jaesa’s mouth to snap shut before saying anything else. “Jaesa, return to your practicing. I’m certain I’ll be well-looked after.”

“O-of course, Master, I’m –” She stopped and rethought her statement after taking a look at the expression on Danni’s face. “I’m eager to…spar with you again, once your wound has been addressed.” Without another word - and before Danaiya could grumble out another threat, the apprentice slipped out of the medbay. Now it was just her and…

She was pulled abruptly and violently out of her thoughts when Quinn pressed against the flesh of her arm right around the wound. Danaiya hissed in pain, jerking her arm away from his prodding touch. At one time, months ago, he would have backed off immediately and apologized, but those days were far behind them. Instead he persisted, albeit with a somewhat lighter touch than before.

Quinn broke the silence that was stretching between them to the point of awkwardness, clearing his throat quietly before commenting, “I must admit, my lord, I am surprised that Jaesa managed to land a blow, even glancing, on you.”

“She’s heading much closer to her potential than she ever would have with the Jedi.” It wasn’t really a response to his statement, but he accepted it nonetheless, nodding as he injected kolto into her shoulder. Danaiya was used to the sensation by now, barely noticing the bite of the needle into her flesh. They lapsed into a more companionable silence as he addressed the wound.

He was so _close_ , brow furrowed in concentration and attention on the cauterized scratch. All the tension that hummed between them was brought back to the front of her mind, and it felt like she was standing on a cliff. She could either back off to where things were safe and routine or she could leap.

She lept.

Danaiya didn’t really think about what she was doing in that moment, but as Quinn moved to pull away from her with the now empty syringe, she reached for him, grasping his wrist with her right hand. He jerked in surprise and the syringe fell from his hands, clattering into the durasteel floor and remaining there, forgotten.

They remained like that for a moment, hovering on the edge of something both of them wanted but neither were sure of. She didn’t even feel the pain in her arm when she lifted her left hand and brushed her fingertips over his cheek, and though the touch was light, it was enough to disrupt the maddening balancing act that they were engaged in.

His eyes met hers and the moment seemed to stretch out. She could feel him - his desire and his uncertainty…but she didn’t want to force him. She knew she could. She would be well within her rights to demand whatever she wanted from him.

But what she wanted could not come from a demand. It had to come from him, of his own volition. And perhaps, despite what he’d said and despite what he felt, he wasn’t ready for this. Danaiya released his wrist and started to turn away, breaking eye contact with him –

– and his now released hand reached out to her, barely touching but it was enough to make her stop and turn her head back towards him.

It was Quinn’s turn to stare at that cliff and decide what to do. Leap or retreat. Danaiya waited, calm and still, waiting for him to make the choice. Leap or retreat.

He lept.

It was a soft thing, at first. He was being careful, she realized, making sure he didn’t overstep any boundaries. He leaned in slowly, the lightest touch of his lips against hers, a split second of contact and it was over, but he hovered still…waiting for something? Her response was just as soft as his, but the contact lingered for a heartbeat longer. It was a small motion, insignificant in the larger schemes of the galaxy, but it was enough.

The next brush of his lips against hers was firmer, an actual kiss instead of the split second brush from a moment before. Danni made a soft sound in her throat, a note of encouragement, and he was emboldened all the further. The hand that Quinn had barely touched her with before now brushed over her cheek and ran slowly through her head, resting at the back of her head.

“Hey, heard Jaesa got a hit – whoaaa.” Vette’s voice invaded the small space and completely destroyed the moment. “Some kind of new healing technique there, Quinn?”

Quinn pushed away from her abruptly, and his face as he turned away was almost as red as her hair. Danaiya saved him having to formulate a response by answering in a very calm but deadly serious tone, “Was there something you needed, Vette?”

“Nooooot…anymore.” The Twi’lek was well familiar with that tone and started to back out of the medbay. The door slid shut after she got far enough, but they could still hear her say, “It’s about damn time,” before the sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor.

 


	6. Stayed Up Too Late Watching Old Movies - Koth Vortena/Female Smuggler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the heck have I been? Work, work, work, sleep, work. Ugh. 
> 
> Anyhow. Those of you that also follow me on tumblr might remember this - it's an older one that I failed to realize wasn't already included in here. 
> 
> Takes place during KotFE at some non-specific timeframe.

Nazeeri was always one to give credit where credit was due - especially when the credit was owed to her. So when Koth suggested that they take the night off so he could ‘expose her to some of Zakuul’s culture before Arcann’, she agreed. How bad could it be? She’d be lying if she wasn’t at least a little curious about what it might have been like, the way both he and Senya went on about it.

What she was not expecting was to be curled up on a couch with him, watching old Zakuulan holovids. She wasn’t usually one for sitting still for so long, but she’d managed. For his sake.

Credit where credit was due.

As the last holovid wound to its inevitable conclusion, she rolled her shoulders and stretched a little - or as much as she could with Koth still leaning against her. Leaning a lot against her, in fact. More than he usually did. It took her exactly two more seconds to realize he’d fallen asleep. Biting down hard on her bottom lip to suppress her laughter, she nudged him.

Nothing.

She nudged him again, harder this time. “Koth.” At least this time she got a mumble from him. Groaning slightly in frustration, Naz craned her neck back to peek at the chrono. Damn, no wonder he was asleep. It was rapidly approaching the point where terminology switched from being ‘up late’ to ‘up early.’

“Koth.” This time, his name was spoken as a grunt through grit teeth as she practically shoved him. Well, actually shoved him. Actually shoved him so hard that he fell rather ungracefully off the couch, complete with an undignified ‘whump’ as he hit the ( thankfully carpeted ) floor.

This time she earned a groan. He didn’t move, but he protested, leaving his words muffled by the floor. “I don’t think I deserved that. What did I even do?”

“You failed to mention that Zakuulan holovids work as a way to speed up time.” Nazeeri nudged him with her foot. “We’re supposed to be up in three hours.”

Koth practically leapt up, leaning forward to try and see the chrono. “Are you serious?”

“Not usually…” Nazeeri admitted, brow arching. “But this time I am.” She leaned against the couch, looking over at the bed and then back to where she was sitting as if she were debating if getting up and going over to the bed was worth the effort. Koth watched her gaze with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. 

“Not into sleeping on the couch?”

“Hey, I’ve slept in worse spots. You were just making my arm go numb.” Nazeeri sighed rather overdramatically, lifting the offended limb. “I think I can feel it now though. Situation’s salvageable.”

“Glad you think so.” Koth yawned, rubbing the back of his neck. “So does this mean we’re sleeping on the couch or…”

“It’s a pretty treacherous walk to the bed. Not sure I can handle it.” Capitalizing on the dramatic moment, Nazeeri pushed herself off the couch and started to walk very, very slowly towards the bed. She didn’t get very far, though, before Koth grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back against his chest. 

“Wouldn’t want you to have to face anything too terrible alone.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s only romantic if I’m the one coming back almost dead.”


	7. "Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey" - Lana Beniko/Female Jedi Consular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another old one from my tumblr that for some reason never made it here. 
> 
> A couple things to note - Seanari is not my 'canon' Jedi Consular, she's got a completely different backstory that has little to nothing to do with the canon JC story. 
> 
> Which I have plans to write out but considering it takes me 8 months to do anything whoooo knows! 
> 
> Anyway! Another non-specific KotFE timed bit.

“My, we’re thunderous today.” A voice piped up from the direction of Lana’s couch as she nearly stomped - but not quite, Lana was far too dignified to resort to something so juvenile - into her quarters. “I assume the children were misbehaving again?” Seanari flashed her lover a grin as she set the datapad down in her lap and leaned back. For once, she wasn’t fully done up in her Jedi robes, instead wearing a simple black tank top and pants. Her hair was even down from it’s usual ponytail, hanging in loose ebon waves around her face.

“They really are like children.” Despite her frustration, Lana managed a small laugh. “A sad state of affairs.”

“It’s not really that surprising, is it?” Seanari quirked a brow as her lover joined her on the couch with a sigh. The Chiss woman shifted, setting the datapad on the nearby table and moving so she was close enough to reach out, bright blue fingers brushing against the skin of Lana’s cheek.

“Not really, no. Is it wrong for me to hope for better?” Lana leaned her head against the touch of Seanari’s hand, yellow eyes closing for just a moment as she started to finally relax. 

“Wrong? I wouldn’t say wrong, but perhaps a bit too optimistic…especially considering some of the individuals involved in the leadership of this Alliance.” She grinned as Lana grimaced, her hand pressing more firmly against the Sith’s cheek. “There is a reason I keep myself well out of the war room, _ch'acin’t_.” 

“It’s probably for the best.” Lana admitted, placed her hand on top of Seanari’s, lacing their fingers together. “Considering your…usual method of dealing with things that annoy you.”

“You can’t argue with it’s effectiveness, can you?”

“That I can’t.” Lana’s lips curled in a smile. “ _Ch'ah ch'acah vah_.” The words were hesitant, but clearly spoken - or so she’d thought, anyway. Right up until Seanari’s expression became one of confusion.

It only took her a few seconds to figure out what Lana had been trying to say, and she was unable to keep a small laugh from spilling from her lips even as she moved her free hand to rest on the blonde’s waist. “Your Cheunh is still shit, _ch’acico_.”

Lana grimaced again. “Yes, well, forgive me for trying.”

“I would never.” Seanari smirked, the arrogant expression causing Lana to attempt a scowl, but she didn’t quite pull it off. “But if you’re going to say such important things, it’s best if you say them correctly.”

“And I suppose you’re going to teach me?” Lana quirked a brow, though her smile returned just as bright as it had been before.

“Just this once. Because I can deny you nothing, especially when you smile.” The hand that rested on Lana’s waist wandered slowly upwards, coming to a stop lightly against the back of her head, blue digits running tenderly through blonde strands. “I’ll try to speak slow enough that you can hear the inflection.”

“Are you teasing me?” Lana tried to frown but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Not at all. Now.” Seanari cleared her throat - perhaps more than a bit overdramatically - and started, “ _Ch'ah_.”

“ _Ch'ah_.” Lana repeated, mimicking her lover’s inflections.

Seanari leaned in, her lips hovering near Lana’s - not an effective way to teach, really, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain. “ _Ch'acah_.” Her voice was nearly a murmur now.

“ _Ch’acah_.” Lana’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“ _Vah_.”

“ _Vah_.” As soon as the syllable had left her lips, Seanari closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to Lana’s in a kiss that was almost painfully tender and far, far too short.

“Hmm.” Seanari’s voice was still a murmur and she stole another kiss, this one just a moment long, but as tender as the one preceding. “I can…see the value of teaching you proper vocal inflection. We’ll have to do this again. Frequently.”


	8. "Has no one come to see you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing my canon Jedi Consular, who has had a really bad time lately. 
> 
> No pairing in this one, though there is a tiny mention of Jedi Consular/Felix Iresso if you squint your eyes and look hard enough. 
> 
> Takes place after KotET but before Iokath. 
> 
> ( Also happy new year to everyone!! ♥ )

Kirasi didn’t remember her rescue. 

It wasn’t the only thing missing from her memory in recent years.This was for the best, she’d determined. There was nothing that could have occured to her since her capture that she wanted to know about. The snippets that she could recall were enough to fuel a lifetime’s worth of nightmares. 

She only knew there had been a rescue staged at all because she was no longer on a fast track to irrevocable madness. Nor was she suffering a blindness that could only exist in a complete void of The Force. A hazy memory of a conversation half-muted by the hood she’d worn –

_“- there - one of them is still alive.” Three flares of light danced into her consciousness. Voices she didn’t know. Or couldn’t remember. She didn’t know the difference anymore. She didn’t know if the difference even mattered._

_“Hmm. A Jedi.“_

_Jedi. The familiar word bounced around her semi-lucid mind. That’s what she had been, isn’t it? Before she’d been brought to this place. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t cross her lips. The only sound she managed was a breathless, pained groan. The three points of light circled closer, but she couldn’t make out any features on them. Perhaps she was imaging them._

_"That’s not your standard Jedi.” Hearing it closer, she realized she knew one of the voices, but she couldn’t place it. “If I’m right, this would be the Jedi’s missing Barsen'thor."_

_"Bar-what-thor? Why do Jedi always insist upon using the most nonsensical terms for everything?"_

_"Now is hardly the time for a ideological debate.” The familiar voice said, a touch of exasperation coloring her tone._

_“Always ruining my fun, Lana. Danni, dear, could you –"_

Kirasi couldn’t remember anything more than that. Nothing until she’d woken up here, in this place, for the first time. At first she didn’t dare ask where they’d taken her - had she only traded one prison for another? - but over time she’d picked up a few things. 

An Alliance, but one that had changed. Republic, Imperials, Jedi and Sith…even Zakuulans. What had they come together for? That she hadn’t been able to determine based on the snippets of conversation she’d picked up. There’d been a war, she thought, but she’d slept through it. 

So much the better. She hated war. The way the living Force warped and twisted from the bodies of the dying always disturbed her. Kirasi wasn’t sure if she could ever take seeing it again, after everything… 

The HoloNet didn’t provide any clarity - or at least not as much as she wanted. Calls to various parties went either unanswered or were entirely unsuccessful. The galaxy, it would seem, had forgotten her all together. So much for her friends, the Jedi, the Rift Alliance, everything that she had fought and sacrificed for, so much for Felix… 

It was this unpleasant line of thinking that was shattered by the approach of a powerful presence in the Force. Kirasi supposed she should be thankful. Whoever was coming to talk to her was no doubt more pleasant than her wallowing in her own self-pity. 

She’d seen this woman a few times before, though her usual entourage was missing. The Alliance Commander. There was no purposeful stride this time, and without the constant chatter of an adviser, she seemed almost…normal. Or as normal as someone who looked to the Miralukan woman to be a walking storm could look. 

"You look much better. I admit, I was concerned that you wouldn’t pull through.” The Imperial accent in the Commander’s voice was unmistakable. Kirasi didn’t respond at first, but then gave a slow nod. A Sith Lord was leading an Alliance? 

“What…have I missed?” Kirasi’s voice was rough from years of abuse and, lately, a lack of use. 

The Commander looked thoughtful for a moment. “It might be best if you didn’t get my perspective of current events.” She paused then, a troubled look passing over her face. “Has nobody come to see you?" 

Kirasi shook her head. "Not besides the medics caring for me." 

"Really. _Really._ ” The second repetition of the word was almost an accusation. “Honestly, I do try to delegate…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “No matter. I’m sorry…B..Barse…?”

“Barsen'thor.” Kirasi said, trying to imagine a galaxy where a Sith was apologizing to her and actually sounded sincere. Yet here it was. Perhaps she was being too hard on the other woman - Sith she might be, but Kirasi couldn’t feel darkness coming from her at all. Curious. 

“That’s the word. Yes. Barsen'thor.” The woman chuckled a little. “I’ve studied ancient Sith as a hobby. Yet I still can’t manage to understand why Jedi use such strange terms for everything.” She held out a hand. “I am…well, a lot of things. The Commander. Darth Imperius. Really tired most of the time." 

Kirasi looked at the offered hand, but didn't extend her own. The Sith Lord seemed unfazed by this, retracting her hand and resting it on her hip. "Darth Imperius? Didn’t you sit on the Dark Council?" 

"A lifetime ago.” The woman replied, a somewhat sad smile pulling on her lips. “Not so different as you being on the Jedi Council, according to Theron. We should be best friends." 

Kirasi frowned. "I can’t tell if you’re…" 

"I do love Jedi. You’re always _so_ serious.” The Commander tilted her head. “Once Master Hiethon returns, I’ll have her give you a run down of how things have gone. From a more…Jedi-friendly slant." 

"Master Hiethon? The Hero of Tython is part of this?" 

"Oh, sure. She’s been around since I was still being decorative wall art.” Darth Imperius chuckled. “She’s off helping with…something or other. I generally let her do whatever she thinks is appropriate. We haven’t really butted heads over anything…yet. But it could happen! We live in strange times." 

"Strange times indeed.” Kirasi murmured in response. “It…was a pleasure to meet you." 

"Weird saying that to a Sith, isn’t it? Don’t worry. We all play nicely around here, for the most part.” The Commander turned serious then. “The war with Zakuul is over, but there are still things that are going to be difficult for us all. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but that place we pulled you out of still gives _me_ nightmares. I wanted you to hear it directly from me - you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. You can go back to the Jedi Order and the Republic if it pleases you.” Turning to leave, the Commander tightened her ponytail. “But if you want to stay, we would love to have another voice of reason among us." 

"I’ll…consider it." 

"That’s all I can ask of anyone.” With a nod in the Jedi Master’s direction, the Sith Lord left the room.


	9. "You've been quiet lately." Lana Beniko / Female Jedi Consular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seanari is Done™ with all of this post-Umbara nonsense. #LetLanaRest2k5ever
> 
> Background mentions of Theron Shan/Female Sith Inquisitor also.

“You’ve been too quiet lately. I don’t like it.”

Lana’s hand stilled on the keypad and she looked up, somewhat taken aback by how close Seanari had managed to get without her being consciously aware of her presence. The Jedi was leaning against a console, arms folded across her chest and a frown twisting her lips. The blonde Sith sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and tried to feign a smile. “Hello, my love.”

Cold red eyes narrowed slightly and the Chiss’ frown deepened. “That doesn’t count.”

“I know, I know.” Lana looked back down at the display, her exhaustion playing clearly into the tone of her voice. “I’m sorry, Anar. I am. Just with Ther–”

“Shan and his inability to make good choices are the Commander’s problem, not yours.” Seanari interrupted, shaking her head.

“Someone has to cover –”

“The Commander’s problem, again. Unless she asked you to take over his workload.” The Chiss paused thoughtfully. “Then I suppose I will become her problem as well.”

“No, she didn’t…but it’s not that simple. Theron knows nearly every detail about how the Alliance works. If anyone could bring it down…” Lana paused as the taller Chiss put her hands on her shoulders.

“You continue to present me with things that are the Commander’s problem. That’s her burden of leadership.” Seanari leaned her head in, touching her forehead to Lana’s. “Let her deal with it.”

“She’s got –”

“She can nurse her broken heart on her own time, not yours or mine.” Blue fingers trailed through blonde hair and the faintest hint of a blush colored Lana’s cheeks. “Besides, you’ve got an extensive network, yes?” Seanari let go of Lana long enough to move around her, slipping her arms around the Sith’s waist from behind and pivoting the smaller woman towards the console. “Call someone. Have them come take over Shan’s workload. Surely you know someone who could manage to do that without being stupid enough to turn on us.”

Lana’s blush deepened and she sighed, a mixed sound of enjoyment in her lover’s embrace and exasperation at her lover’s sheer stubbornness. She was fortunate the war room was presently deserted - it was a blessing, really, because Lana wasn’t entirely sure an audience would have given her Jedi any pause. “It’s not that easy, Anar. I can’t just call anyone to take over his work.” 

“Why not? It can’t have been that complicated, if he was both capable of doing it and at the same time proving how much of an idiot he is.” 

Lana paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I didn’t think you disliked him so strongly, love.”

“I didn’t, before. Then he threw something precious away - your friendship. He could have hurt you. _Killed_ you.” Seanari tightened her embrace on Lana. “I should stick my lightsaber through his guts just for that.” 

“I don’t think you need to do that.”

“Need to? No, probably not. Want to? Certainly.” 

Despite herself, despite the situation, Lana managed a quiet chuckle. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“ I know. It’s why you love me. Now.” Seanari pressed a soft kiss to the side of Lana’s neck before pulling away. “Call someone, _ch'acah,_ or the Commander’s going to have a bigger problem than mourning her broken heart.”


	10. "You did what you had to do" Theron Shan/Sith Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meetings get real boring sometimes.
> 
> Takes place during Shadow of Revan, right after things move over to Yavin IV.

The coalition was still in relative infancy, but it was going just about as well as anyone could expect. Hell, so far as Theron was aware, no one had pulled a vibroknife on someone in at least an hour. Wonders never ceased. **  
**

But the day was still young.

Not that it felt that way, standing around the war table with the other leaders of the coalition force - which he figured he was only included as a matter of courtesy, since the Grandmaster and Darth Marr had more or less taken over since they’d arrived on Yavin. Fine by him. Sneaking around collecting intel on Rishi was one thing. Small sabotage missions? Sure. Leading troops? Not exactly his area of expertise.

They’d been discussing the same thing for at least thirty minutes now. It had been almost deceptively simple for both Satele and Marr to agree that it would be wise to bring in more notable individuals to assist with not only the assault on the Revanites, but bringing the coalition together - leaving the bulk of the argument on  _who_  to reach out to.

Satele was currently pushing for calling on either the Hero of Tython or the Barsen’thor - preferably both. Bringing in Master Hiethon was shot down almost immediately, too much bad history with the Empire, and she’d already had her go at killing the Emperor and that’s partially why they were even here in the first place. A stronger argument was being made for Master Iresso, though Marr was still offering a fair bit of pushback, understandably against losing his current numbers advantage in coalition leadership. 

Theron was still listening, of course, but Satele had yet to ask him for his opinion outside of confirming some of the things they’d discussed on the way from Rishi. Lana and Imperius, standing on the far side of the table, had received similar treatment from Darth Marr. Lana had been doing her level best to avoid his gaze - some delayed guilt, maybe, seeing the bruises still somewhat fresh on his face.

Imperius was staring at the war table, doing her best to at least pretend to be interested by offering the occasional nod or quiet sound of affirmation. At a more direct question posed to her by Satele, Imperius’ gaze shot up from the table, lips quirking in a diplomatic smile before responding to the Grandmaster.

“She has a history of bringing vastly different groups together, doesn’t she?” Imperius’ voice took on a tone he’d not heard from her before - soft, almost soothing, but very strictly professional. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t invite someone with that background, if it wouldn’t be out of place for me to say so.”

Satele looked almost taken aback by her response, but Theron was less surprised. Imperius was rapidly proving herself as the most reasonable Sith he’d ever encountered - a title that once belonged to Lana, but the minor ache of his lingering bruises made it harder to label her such. Regardless, Satele recovered from her surprise admirably. “I’m glad you share my opinion on this, Darth Imperius.”

“Of course.” Imperius nodded at Satele, her gaze drifting over to Theron and for just a moment, the diplomatic mask slipped out of place and she half-rolled her eyes. He almost chuckled, but thought better of it, leaving this as a moment shared privately between the two of them. They were starting to collect these moments with more frequency, he noticed.

Maybe they should stop. Though what harm could a smile do, or private expressions of exasperation?

It was fine. It’s not like anything would come of this later. She was a Sith Lord - he had to keep reminding himself of this, though it was getting harder and harder to see her as a Sith, an enemy,  _his_ enemy - and probably just toying with him until whatever point she would eventually grow bored and move on to someone more…appropriate. Theron tried to pretend the thought of her discarding him and moving on didn’t disturb him.

He was mostly successful. Mostly.

“And what of the Wrath?”

Marr’s voice cut through his thoughts - though with the way Imperius practically jumped out of her skin, he could at least take some amusement in that he reacted a little better. Her head turned to Marr with enough speed that Theron was momentarily concerned that she might have sustained a neck injury. “What…about the Wrath?”

“Do you know where she is?”

Annoyance flittered momentarily over Imperius’ face. “Do you think I keep a tracker on her ship? I haven’t the slightest idea where exactly in this vast galaxy she might be. Aside from that, do remember that she doesn’t answer to you or even me, Marr. You know who holds her leash.”

There was a slight pause before he answered. “I believe you could bring her around to our perspective.” Marr’s voice seemed almost conversational, but based on how tense the small red-headed Sith was, the words were clearly being interpreted as a threat.

“I hardly think I have to convince her that striking back against a force that wants to  _literally eat everyone in the entire galaxy_  is the right thing to do, but I doubt it would be that simple. Clearly he - him being Vitiate, of course, you know,  _the Emperor_ , of which she is  _his personal executioner_  - has some way of monitoring her so he can give her new tasks to do, but it’s not as if we get together and chat over caf about whatever those weird Servants call her about.”

“Do you have any idea what she’s doing now?” Satele offered, trying to diffuse the mounting tension between the two members of the Dark Council. “Perhaps that would help narrow down her location.”

“Her husband, probably.” Imperius remarked offhandedly, having started to inch away from Darth Marr. “If I had to take a stab in the dark – mmm, maybe not the  _best_  analogy to use right now.”

“I’m sorry?” Satele furrowed her brow, either having not picked up on Imperius’ meaning or deciding to pretend the Sith hadn’t actually said that. It took a good measure of self-control for Theron to keep himself neutral, but he was glad to see the diplomatic mask that Imperius had started the meeting with effectively shattered. He preferred the real her, the one he’d seen on Rishi, that flirted with him and made things seem a little less dire. The one that ran in to save him when Lana let him get taken. 

Not that he was into her or anything.

What a ridiculous idea.  

“Marr’s seen him, I’m sure.” Imperius regarded the tall Sith with an arched brow, even as she slowly moved to place Lana in between her and her leader. “Her captain. The one she brought along when she gave Darth Baras his severance package from the Emperor.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Marr’s patience was clearly wearing thin.

“That’s what she’s doing. Or who, I suppose.” Imperius looked between the two leaders. “If you want to interrupt her, you can go right ahead and do it, but I prefer my windpipe not being crushed.”

“That will not be necessary.” There was a sigh in Marr’s voice. “We have wasted enough time as it is.”

“Are you sure, Darth Marr? You seemed quite eager to reach out to her a moment ago, certainly you’re not afraid of the, ah,  _wrath_  of the Wrath interrupted while she’s –”

“If I might say so,” Lana cut in, shooting a glare at the redhead - who, for her part, responded with a wicked grin - before continuing, “perhaps it would be best if both sides came up with a list of names and we can decide from there.”

Satele nodded. “We don’t seem to be making any more progress here for now.” Even the Grandmaster seemed annoyed, or the Jedi equivalent of annoyed, at the successful derailment of the meeting.

“Very well.” Marr’s gaze lingered on Imperius in what could only be interpreted as severe disappointment. “Beniko, with me.”

“Of course.” Lana inclined her head, shot Imperius one more disapproving frown, and followed the leader of the Dark Council as he turned and left the war table. While he’d expected Imperius to follow the two of them, she stayed behind and - based on the way her lips were pressed tightly together - was fighting a smile.

“Theron, if you would…?” Satele turned toward the Republic side of the camp, her steps pausing for a moment. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“Alright.” Satele almost seemed as if she wanted to say something else, but either she didn’t want to share it in front of the remaining member of the Dark Council or thought better of it altogether, continuing away from the war table.

Once the Grandmaster was suitably far away, Imperius’ professional mask was tossed away with a groan as she leaned back against the console near the war table. “Stars, I thought I was going to die. That was worse than the Council meetings.”

“You derailed the meeting on purpose.” It wasn’t a question. Not even really an accusation, though he did make the effort to make it sound like one.

“Of course I did.” Imperius grinned. “Otherwise we might have been here for days and I would have very certainly died, choked by the stifling need to be diplomatic in front of the leader of the Jedi…until all life fled from my body…” Pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, she let out an overdramatic gasp. “A blow to the Empire and a tragic loss! Darth Imperius, dead from boredom.”

“Ah. Boredom. The one foe you wouldn’t be able to overcome.” Theron shook his head, somewhat amused. “Guess you did what you had to do, then.”

“I’m glad we agree.” Imperius smiled, straightening up, and he actually hated the way that smile cut right into him, past the defenses of being raised by the Jedi, of working as a spy, of her being the enemy.

Oh, she was trouble, and he was already in too deep.


End file.
